


Possible (34/39)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [34]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:26:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2697890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey speaks up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (34/39)

“ _You’re a fucking pussy_.” 

“ _Go find your boyfriend_.”

Mandy’s words echoed in Mickey’s head all the way home, and by the time he reached the house he was in no mood for chit-chat. When Svetlana looked up at him with her customary smirk he knew what was coming.

"No Orange Boy still? You lose to Gallagher family?"

Mickey snarled and threw both middle fingers in her direction as he stormed through to his bedroom. The house shook with the force of his slammed door. 

He was standing by his closet brooding over which shirt would make him look most responsible when he heard the creak of hinges behind him and turned around to see Mandy standing beside his bedroom wall.

“ _Don’t_ fuckin’ start with me,” he exploded.

She shook her head and proffered her lit cigarette. “I know what they’re like. They can be cunts.”

Mickey took the cigarette and plunked himself heavily on the end of the bed. “They’re okay I guess.” Not that he felt any goodwill toward Fiona or Lip just now, but somehow, the idea of bad-mouthing Ian’s family seemed vaguely dishonourable.

"What’d they tell you?"

He lifted a shoulder as he sucked in, then released the smoke from his lungs. “They think he’s better off there for now.”

Mandy rolled her eyes a little. “What’s he think?”

"Didn’t ask him."

She looked at him in silence for a few moments and he resolutely avoided her gaze. 

"Want me to go talk to him?" she asked after a moment.

A wave of relief washed over him for a second and he turned toward her eagerly. “Wou-“ But he stopped before the word even came out, awareness chasing gratification with a sickening resignation. “Nah,” he said more slowly, handing the cigarette back to her. “My problem. I’ll go.”

She nodded, watching him for a second, then nodded at the shirts in his closet. “The dark gray one.”

He followed her gaze, then half-smiled. “I knew that.”

She snorted and went out, and Mickey began to get changed.

***

At the Gallagher house the door was still locked but this time Mickey didn’t even bother with the bell, just started pounding.

After a moment Debbie pulled open the door, then stared as he brushed by her. 

"Need to talk to him."

He was already at the base of the front stairs when Fiona met him, coming in from the kitchen. “Mickey, wait — “ She put her hand on Mickey’s arm as he started up the steps.

"What?" he demanded, pulling away.

She took a breath. “He’s sleeping. Come on down here and wait a bit, okay?”

Mickey looked up the stairs and then back at Fiona, who was watching him with a coaxing smile. Behind her he could see Debbie observing the two of them. His first reaction was to ignore them both and go straight up to Ian - wake him, if necessary. Then he found himself considering — not worried, this time, but faintly curious to hear what they had to say to him.

"Okay," he said, and he could feel his chin lifting defiantly. "Fine. While I’m waiting, you can tell me what you guys’ve been sayin’ about me to him."

"Saying about you?" Fiona shook her head a little. "I don’t know what you mean. But thanks for waiting." 

She started back toward the kitchen as Mickey came down from the stairs and took a step after her. “Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” he said, his voice rising a little.

"Not," she said, still moving. "Just getting myself some coffee. You want some?"

"Oh." Mickey considered this. "Okay."

He pulled off his jacket and threw it over the couch, glancing at Debbie. “How’s he doin’?”

"Fine," she said matter-of-factly. "Pretty much recovered, I think."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey sprawled on the couch and looked up at her, then at Fiona when she returned from the kitchen with a mug in each hand. "So what’s he still doin’ here then?"

"Mickey, we talked about that." Fiona handed him a mug and perched on the coffee table opposite, looking at him intently. "We agreed that — "

“ _We_ didn’t talk about nothin’; _you_ talked. And I don’t agree to anything unless he does.”

Fiona sighed a little, and from the corner of his eye he could see Debbie watching her. “Mickey. Look, I know you’ve done your best … “

For a split second Mickey could feel that familiar sense of doubt and uncertainty. Had he really done his best? Wasn’t there always more, better you could do? Then something about the way Debbie seemed to shift her gaze toward him brought him out of it. “Fuck you, man. I did what I did. He makes his own choices. You tellin’ me he wants to stay here?”

"It’s not like that." Fiona’s voice grew a bit firmer in response to his own. "It’s not a question of what he wants. We know how much work it is to look after someone with issues like Ian. We’ve been there. We know it’s time we stepped up to the plate. You’ve got your own family to deal with."

"Ian _is_ family,” Mickey said. “I never fucking asked you to step up - at least not like that. He’s my — ” He started to say _boyfriend_ , a word that no longer seemed alien to him, but something about it didn’t seem quite strong enough. “Partner. He’s my partner, and it’s my job to look after him. I never said I needed help with that.”

A kind of gasp behind them made all three of them turn their heads. Ian stood on the stairs, a hand on the railing, staring at Mickey.

"Partner?" Ian said, and then suddenly he was glowering at Fiona. "You told me he needed a break."

"Ian," Fiona said; and then, "Well, no, I just said — "

"You and Lip both. You said Mickey wanted me to stay here, you said he wanted a break."

Mickey was on his feet, facing Ian. He shook his head, eyes never leaving Ian’s face. It suddenly seemed acutely, vitally, important for him to be one-hundred-percent clear on this point. “I don’t need a break, Ian. I don’t want a break. I want you home, with me. As long as that’s what you want.”

"Of course it’s what I want." Ian came down the rest of the stairs and crossed over to put his hand on Mickey’s shoulder. "But you sure I’m not too much trouble?"

"You’re not trouble." Mickey’s voice came out rough, and his throat felt raw. For a moment he ached with something, and then Ian kissed his forehead and he realized what he’d been waiting for.

"Then … let’s go home, yeah?" Ian said.

"Yeah." This time the relief that flooded Mickey came with something that felt almost like joy. "You need anything?"

"Nope. Let’s go."

"Ian — " Fiona said, from what seemed like a million miles away. "Don’t be mad at us — "

Ian shook his head, already putting his shoes on by the door. “Not mad. Just don’t need you to make my choices for me.”

"But are you sure you’re … " She trailed off, hesitating.

Ian and Mickey glanced at each other, and then Ian smiled. “I’m sure.”

Mickey just had time to grab his coat from the couch before he followed Ian out the door.


End file.
